


Wounds You've Never Noticed Before

by reeder



Series: Haunted Hill, Silent Ground [3]
Category: Demento | Haunting Ground, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, and even then it's not really about it, it's more like rape/non-con themes, it's nothing worse than in the game, the rape/non-con warning is for talking about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeder/pseuds/reeder
Summary: Fiona might not have gotten as bruised and bloody as Heather had when they each went through their respective hells, but that doesn't mean she got out unhurt. Her pain takes a different shape, though.





	

Fiona was overheating. Heather's mouth was hot against hers, her body even hotter, and Fiona was drowning in it. They were on their sides, on Fiona's soft queen-sized bed, kissing with the fervor and passion of two people who have yet to have sex with each other. Heather broke the kiss, only to start kissing down Fiona's neck instead. She slid her hand up Fiona's shirt, caressing her stomach, and suddenly it was a cold, flawless hand and long lavender hair and a face staring, blank, soulless and the window breaking and shrieking and she needed to get out she needed to get away she needed to–she screamed.  


She screamed and the hand was gone and the warmth was gone and Hewie was barking and scratching at the door and when Fiona opened her eyes Heather was sprawled out on the floor, one of her feet still on the bed, confused and terrified and worried. Hewie was still barking and scratching but Fiona was frozen. Heather was going to take this the wrong way, wasn't she? She was going to freak out and leave because what kind of person screams when someone touches their stomach? Heather was going to leave, she was already getting up and going to the door. Fiona had to do something she had to stop Heather but she couldn't move. Her body felt like stone, too heavy to move, but it also felt like if she tried she'd crumble into pieces. Heather opened the door.  


Hewie shot into the room and leaped onto the bed, pushing his face into Fiona's neck. She hugged him tightly and half buried her face in his fur. Hewie had kept her body and her soul safe, but her heart was another matter. She kept her eyes on Heather. Heather, who was about to walk right out of Fiona's life because Fiona was broken and terrible now, like the dolls Debilitas had played with.  


Only, Heather didn't walk out the door. She closed it and came back to the bed, sitting on the corner of the foot, as far from Fiona as she could be while staying on the bed. “Sooooo,” she said, casually, like her girlfriend shrieking out of of nowhere was an everyday occurrence, “I'm guessing the stomach is off limits?”  


Heather's question made Fiona flinch and finally snap out of whatever odd paralyzed state she was in. “I'm so sorry,” she blurted out, clutching Hewie tighter and trying not to cry (she failed). “I didn't mean to, I was just, it was just, I couldn't and I can't believe I screamed I'm so sorry I just–”  


“Woah, woah, hold on a sec,” Heather said, lifting her hands up. Fiona snapped her mouth shut and looked at Heather, sniffling. Heather leaned over as if to touch Fiona, but stopped halfway, closing her hand and sitting back. “Okay,” she said, letting out a sigh, “First off, you don't need to apologize or whatever. Whatever, that was, it's okay, alright?” She stared at Fiona until she nodded her head tentatively, then went on. “Okay, so, whatever happened is alright and stuff, but what exactly was it?” she asked, running her hand through her hair.  


Fiona was silent, trying to push past the thoughts of not good enough never good enough if her friends wouldn't stay why would she she'll leave, to say what she needed to. Before she could speak though, Heather tensed and added, tripping over her words in her haste to get them out, “It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it or whatever we can just lie down or something or I could leave if you're–”  


“No!” Fiona said, with a force that surprised her. Heather seemed surprised too, by her wide eyes. “No,” she said, softer, “Stay.” Heather nodded jerkily and stayed seated on the bed. Fiona took in a deep breath, and spoke. “When your hand was going up my stomach, it felt really nice, but then it stopped feeling like your hand and started feeling like, like,” she cut herself off. She didn't want to describe her, as if the mere act of mentioning her would cause her to appear in a puff of smoke and force Fiona to go through everything again.  


“What happened to you in that castle,” Heather said, so quiet it was probably to herself. Fiona heard it anyway.  


“Presumably not as much as what happened to you in Silent Hill,” she said, just as quiet. Judging by how Heather tensed, she could hear it too. Fiona bit her lip, wishing she could reach out and grab the words, shove them back in her mouth and swallow them down. “I told you,” she said, slowly, trying to draw out the pauses between words to give her more time, “I told you, that people, things, people, kept chasing me throughout the castle.”  


Heather nodded, slowly, then suddenly sat bolt upright with a wild, angry look in her eyes. “Did any of them...” she trailed off, but Fiona caught her meaning.  


“Oh, no!” she said hurriedly, trying to keep Heather from going on a rampage against those long dead. She let go of Hewie and leaned over the bed to grab Heather's hand, a tether, a lifeline. “Neither of them did,” she said softly. “They didn't get the chance.” Even as she said it Fiona remembered fainting in front of Ricardo, waking up somewhere different in different clothes–no. No, he didn't. He couldn't have. Fiona would have known when she woke up (wouldn't she?). The tension bled out of Heather like paint in the rain.  


“You don't have to tell me who they were, or what they did,” Heather said, giving Fiona's hand a comforting squeeze, “But I want you to know that if anyone ever tried anything like that again, I'll kill them.” That was, probably more comforting than it should be, since Fiona was pretty sure Heather would actually kill someone over this. She brought their hands up and kissed Heather's, a silent thank you. “I would,” Heather insisted, sincere and solemn, like she was making a vow. She raised her other hand up, slowly, letting Fiona see where it was and where it was going, and tucked Fiona's hair behind her ear. “I'd die before letting that happen to you.” The thought of Heather dying, though, dying for Fiona, was a horror all its own. She flung her arms around Heather, gripping her tight.  


“Please don't,” she said, gasping, desperate. The words felt like they were being yanked out of her, like her panic reached down her throat to drag them out painfully. Heather's arms folded over her back, but the touch was too light. Fiona tried to move closer, to hold tighter, to sink into Heather and never come back out. It was never enough. “You can't,” she said, voice muffled in Heather's neck, making her shiver from the sensation. “You can't die, not you.”  


“Okay,” Heather said, “I won't die. I'm the strongest woman in the world.” Fiona let out a long, shaky breath and relaxed, resting all her weight on Heather's strong, stable body. Heather would always say she wasn't dependable, she was too flaky, too rough, too restless, but Fiona disagreed. Heather was dependable in the best way, sturdy and strong. Fiona could be weak with Heather and it wouldn't matter, because Heather was strong enough for the both of them. If Heather had been with her in the castle...but it didn't do to dwell on what-ifs. What was important was that Heather could sit upright even with Fiona going boneless and resting her weight on her. What was important was that Heather had let Hewie into the room when Fiona was panicking. What was important was that Heather was here.  


Fiona shifted, taking responsibility of her own weight again. She still clung to Heather, though. “We should probably talk about this,” she said reluctantly.  


Heather slowly rubbed gentle circles on Fiona's back, pausing every few seconds as if to make sure it was alright. “We don't have to if you don't want to,” she said.  


“We should, though,” Fiona said. “I think I'll be able to, as long as we stay like this.” It was comforting, having Heather all around her (and it helped that this way she wouldn't have to see Heather's face as she talked).  


“If we're gonna have a long talk and stuff, could we please move to the headboard?” Heather asked. Oh. Fiona hadn't thought of that. She pulled back, smiling sheepishly. Heather crawled over to the headboard and flopped down against. Hewie, who had been sitting patiently the whole time, tried to climb into her lap. “No, boy, down,” she said, laughing, and Fiona was reminded how lucky she was to have a girlfriend who loved Hewie (and more importantly, whom Hewie loved). Fiona crawled up the bed as well, giving Hewie a light push to get him to move. When he did (good boy), she collapsed into Heather's arms. The headboard at Heather's back meant that Fiona could lie on Heather completely, and she took advantage of it. Their arms wrapped around each other again, and Fiona took a deep breath. It was time to talk.  


“At the castle, they had a, servant, I suppose,” Fiona said. “She was extremely beautiful, but her face was always blank and emotionless. She told me, she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't even taste. And somehow, I had what she lacked. And she wanted to take it from me.” Fiona paused, licking her lips, hesitating, before adding, “She wanted to rip it out of me. My, my azoth.”  


“What the fuck is an azoth?” Heather asked. Fiona lifted her head out of the crook of Heather's neck to look at her. Her face was furrowed and her lips were curled in a snarl, showing her teeth. If her rage was directed at Fiona, she'd be terrified, but rage on her behalf was...comforting. She brought her arms up from Heather's back to her neck in a gentle caress, cupped her face in her hands, and brought their foreheads together. She didn't quite know how to express her thanks to Heather, for getting so worked up and angry over Fiona's pain, but this would have to do.  


“It's okay,” she muttered, “She can't hurt me anymore.” She ran one of her hands through Heather's hair, delighting in the way her eyes fluttered.  


Heather let out a choked, spluttering laugh. “I should be saying that to you,” she said, leaning into Fiona's touch. “Keep going,” she added quietly.  


After nodding slowly, Fiona sank back down into Heather's embrace. She felt the bed shift, and a second later Hewie lied down, pressed against her side. Surrounded and supported by the two she loved most, Fiona continued. “I'm still not entirely sure what azoth is,” she said. “The servant, she said it was the essence of life, but also the essence of woman? I suppose it doesn't really matter what it is, but, ah, where it is.” She paused, flushing slightly.  


After a few moments of silence, Heather slowly asked, “Where is it?” Her words were hesitant, as if she had an idea of where it was but she didn't like it and was dreading confirmation of her suspicions.  


“It's, um, in the womb,” Fiona said, trying to bury her face even deeper into Heather's neck. Heather let out a long, drawn-out breath. “I was asleep and she, well she grabbed at that area of my stomach and woke me up. I imagine it would have been fine, I mean, that I wouldn't have reacted the way I did when you, but, right after that she was smashing her head into the window and grabbing a piece of broken glass and chasing me all through the castle and I just,” she cut herself off.  


“Okay then,” Heather said suddenly, too loud for the solemn silence that had filled the room, “Stomach, definitely off-limits. Got it.” She slipped out from under Fiona and Fiona felt as though her stomach had bottomed out. Did she push too far? Share too much? Did she manage to drive Heather away? Before her panic could fully overtake her, Heather grabbed her hand. “Come on,” she said, “I'm fucking starved. We still haven't checked out that dog restaurant.” Fiona, so filled with relief it made her dizzy, followed Heather off the bed and over to the door. “C'mon Hewie,” Heather called behind them, and Hewie let out a bark and scrambled off the bed after them. Feeling the tension slowly drain out of her, Fiona smiled at Heather's back. “So, uh,” Heather said, grabbing Hewie's leash from its hook, looping the chain around his neck, and handing the leash itself to Fiona, “That's really fucked up. Like, really, seriously fucked up. Like, I really hate that you went through it, but I'm also proud that you made it through so well?” Let's be real here, you're way more put-together than I am,” Fiona opened her mouth to protest (did Heather forget the panic and screaming that led to the conversation in the first place?) but Heather held up her hand to silence her, “I'm serious,” she said, “I'm a total hot mess of a person. But whatever, my point is,” she stared into Fiona's eyes, her face serious, “That you're fucking amazing and I love you.”  


Fiona blushed brightly and started fiddling with Hewie's leash. She felt warm all over, down to her bones and in her soul. “I love you too,” she said, smiling softly at Heather, “Thank you.” Heather too, got a bit red in the cheeks, and ran her hand through her hair. Fiona bent down to kiss her, trying to communicate the depths of emotion she was feeling, the warmth, the love, the gratitude, the sheer joy bubbling in her veins at Heather's acceptance (at Heather staying). Heather cupped Fiona's cheek with her hand and kissed back. For a few moments all the whirling thoughts in Fiona's head were still. When they eventually pulled back from the kiss, Heather took the hand cupping Fiona's cheek and stroked her hair with it.  


“We should still go get some food,” she said seriously, “I wasn't kidding when I said I was starving.” Fiona giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.  


“Well then what are we waiting for?” she said, reaching for Heather's hand. Talking to Heather had relieved Fiona of a weight she didn't even know was there, and she was looking forward to eating some food. They'd need the energy for later that night.


End file.
